


Prelude

by swaps55



Series: Opus [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Childhood, Estranged parent, Gen, Pre-Kaidan Alenko/Shepard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27996672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swaps55/pseuds/swaps55
Summary: The 14-year old-kid who changed David Anderson's life.The unexpected mentor who changed Sam Shepard's.The kid can’t sit still. Sam is like a walking, talking action figure, in a perpetual state of motion with no sense of his own body. According to Daniel he’d just hit a growth spurt, shot up to over 175 cm in the space of a month, and it shows. It’s like watching a puppy try to figure out what to do with four feet, and the Alliance is shipping him off to learn how to play with dark energy.No wonder Daniel had called him. Without someone to keep an eye on him, this string bean of a kid might take out the whole system.One-shot stories featuring Sam Shepard & David Anderson pre-ME1.
Relationships: David Anderson & Male Shepard
Series: Opus [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719571
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Prelude

_These things always start so small_  
_With no applause and no drum roll_

x

**You Just Might**

The N program hadn’t covered teenagers.

David Anderson has only been alone with the kid for an hour, and he already has a new respect for the parenting skills of Daniel Shepard. He’s not sure a dreadnought would be a big enough space to contain Sam, and here they are stuck in the cramped passenger compartment of an Alliance shuttle with two hours to go before they reach Ares Station.

_This is who Hannah Shepard wants to turn into a biotic soldier_. The kid can’t sit still. Sam is like a walking, talking action figure, in a perpetual state of motion with no sense of his own body. According to Daniel he’d just hit a growth spurt, shot up to over 175 cm in the space of a month, and it _shows._ It’s like watching a puppy try to figure out what to do with four feet, and the Alliance is shipping him off to learn how to play with dark energy.

No wonder Daniel had called him. Without someone to keep an eye on him, this string bean of a kid might take out the whole system.

“Do you think snapping my fingers’ll trigger it?” The kid has the most earnest eyes Anderson has ever seen. The kind that see right _through_ you. Just like Hannah.

“I’m assuming you’ve tried that,” Anderson replies. _A hundred times, no doubt._

“Yeah, but maybe I’m doing it wrong. I can’t snap for shit.”

“I think that’s the whole point of learning. Figuring out how to control it _without_ breaking your arm.”

Sam shrugs, rubbing his left arm. According to Daniel he’d hidden the fracture for three days before finally confessing to his father. “Sure, I guess.”

Anderson isn’t sure what’s more troubling, that Sam has already broken enough bones to have an aversion to bone knitters, or that he’d apparently spent those three days trying to replicate the lash of dark energy that had broken the arm in the first place.

The kid kicks his feet, squirming in his seat. Aside from the constant kinetic energy, everything about him screams Hannah Shepard. Except for the ears. He’s got Daniel’s ears. The grin favors him, too. But everything else belongs to Hannah.

“I hear biotics can fry people’s brains,” Sam says.

Heaven help them all. “Having been tossed around by a biotic a time or two, no, that’s not how it works.”

The kicking stops, and Sam’s eyes widen. “You’ve fought biotics?”

Anderson straightens, oddly pleased to suddenly have the kid’s undivided attention. “Fought a lot of things. But yes, biotics.”

“When? Where? How many? What was it like?”

“Which time?” he asks with a smirk.

Is he really trying to impress a fourteen-year-old?

“All of them,” Sam says, with a reverence that makes him wish he had kids of his own.

Apparently Anderson is indeed trying to impress the fourteen-year-old.

Why not share a few stories? Would be nice to have a captive audience for once. Someone who hadn’t heard the rumors about Dah'tan and already made up their mind.

So he tells a few. It’s the closest Sam comes to being still, though he constantly interrupts to ask questions. Apparently Sam can be either still or quiet, but not both.

The questions are unnervingly shrewd, too. Anderson tells those stories with some spectacle – why not, he’s earned it – but Sam never once gets lost in it. Instead he wants to know how biotics interact with kinetic shields. Asks about squad formations. Even interrogates him about the layout of that shipping plant on Ilium, to figure out how Aesir Fina’s mercs had managed to flank him. The kid is _tactical_. The gears turn in his head as he digests every answer. You can _see_ it.

When there’s a lull in the conversation, Sam points to the red stripe on the right arm of Anderson’s shirt. He’s been eyeing it the entire trip. “You’re an N7.”

“The first N7,” Anderson replies, not without pride.

Sam tilts his head, and for a moment he looks just like Daniel, not Hannah. It’s not the only mannerism they share. The occasional twist of frustration in his lips. The lilt in his voice. _That’s_ where Daniel lives in his son.

“I want to do that.”

“Never had a biotic N7,” Anderson says, thoughtfully. He can only imagine what ICT would do to someone with the caloric needs of a biotic.

“Good. I’ll be the first,” Sam says, smug smile on his face that belongs to neither of his parents.

“It’s not easy,” Anderson cautions him. “Lot of hard work, especially for someone used to temperature controlled environments. Planets aren’t nearly as comfortable as ships, and ICT’ll put your face right in the mud.”

He scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll figure it out.”

_You know what_ , _you just might._

Sam toys with a thread on his sleeve. Anderson has no doubt that if you left him in an empty room he’d be naked standing in a pile of thread before long. “So how do you know my dad, anyway?”

The sudden moodiness in his voice takes Anderson off guard. The kid hadn’t had any trouble looking him in the eye a moment ago.

“We go way back. Boot camp. Officer candidacy training. I know your dad well, actually.”

Sam’s expression turns skeptical. “My dad. Buddies with an N7.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

Sam shrugs one shoulder, eyes fixed on the loose string. It’s definitely longer, now. “Mom flies a ship, dad rides a desk.”

Anderson exhales through his nose. _You’ve got no idea, do you?_ Does he even know his father is N1? It would be like Daniel not to tell him. Accolades have never mattered to Daniel the way they matter to Hannah. The way they matter to Anderson.

Hannah had wanted her career. Daniel had wanted Sam. Simple as that.

“Don’t sell your dad short,” Anderson tells him. “His proficiency scores were better than mine.”

Sam snorts. “Bullshit.”

“Suit yourself.” Anderson leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. What are the odds he could get a nap in before they arrive?

Not good. That stare is like a directed energy weapon. Forget the biotics, the kid could fry Anderson’s brain with just that stare. He cracks one eye open. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a pain in the ass?”

“Yep.”

Anderson doesn’t doubt it. They eye each other for a while. Sam starts tapping the arm rest. First with his left hand, then the right.

“You still have model ships?” Anderson asks. Every time he’d seen Sam as a child he’d had some kind of ship in his hand, and a wide array of sound effects to accompany it. Usually a model of whatever cruiser Hannah was doing a tour on.

“Nah, that stuff’s for kids.”

“Nothing wrong with being a kid,” Anderson says.

“Then you go do it.”

He puts a fist to his mouth to stifle a chuckle. “Fair enough.”

After a few more minutes of tapping Anderson sighs. “So why do you want to be an N7?”

“To be the best.” Sam goes back to kicking the seat. Could be a good interrogation tactic to suggest. Stick a suspect in a room with Sam Shepard and see who breaks first. Safe bet it won’t be Sam.

“And why is it so important to be the best?” Every now and then, Anderson wishes someone had asked Hannah that question. He wonders what the answer would be.

Sam shrugs again. That moody look is back. He pops out of his seat and strolls to the shutter. “Think we can see it yet?”

“No. And you’re deflecting the question.”

“So?”

“If you want to join up, better get used to orders, son.”

That gets him. He abandons the window, squares his shoulders and trades the moodiness for defiance. “Because someone’s got to be.”

Anderson hums. Big talk for a fourteen-year-old. That has to be Hannah’s influence. It’s a wonder Sam got to be a kid at all.

Sam returns to his seat and draws his knees to his chest. It makes him look…young. Far too young for where he’s headed. “Think mom’ll come see me at all?”

Well, shit. Shouldn’t be Anderson answering that question. Daniel said she’d been on tour for four months, either couldn’t get leave to see Sam off or chose not to. Even sent him a pre-recorded message for his birthday a few weeks ago. _She hit the lottery with you, kid, and did nothing to earn it._ But it’s not his place to get involved in family politics. Daniel decided a long time ago he wasn’t going to do anything to tarnish her name in his eyes.

“She can’t, Sam. Classified facility. She doesn’t have clearance.”

For the first time all trip, he’s both silent and still. “But you do.”

Anderson taps the N7 logo on his chest. “Yeah. I do.”

Sam nods. His brow furrows. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, turns that directed energy stare at the shutter and rests his chin in his hand.

Damnit.

Daniel had only asked him to take the kid to Ares. He doesn’t know anything about whatever insane plan the Alliance has to train biotic kids after cratering BAaTT. But looking at those hunched shoulders, the long legs he hasn’t grown into, the shoulders he hasn’t filled out yet…he’s a _kid,_ damnit, out here alone with no one to look out for him.

_He’s not_ your _kid_. But someone’s got to do it, and he’s the only one here.

Hell with it. He’s got plenty of leave stored up. The Alliance can spare him for a week or so. Just to get him settled in.

He leans back in his seat and props a foot on his knee. “Think I’ll stick around a few days. Never been to Ares station.”

Sam picks his head up. There’s something hopeful in his eyes, and if Anderson had any reservations about staying they’re gone now.

“Yeah?”

“Sure. Besides, if I’m going to recommend you to ICT one day, need to see what you’ve got.”

There’s Daniel again, in the tilt of his chin. “You’d do that?”

“If you earn it.”

Sam straightens. “I’ll earn it.”

Anderson smiles. He’s got some growing up to do first, in more ways than one. But there’s a glimmer in his eye that could take him a long way, if he lets it. If someone sticks around long enough to help him figure it all out. _Hell_ , y _ou know what, kid? You just might_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come find me at swaps55.tumblr.com for prompts, mShenko feelings, and Mass Effect musings.


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